Radars_mom
This is a little poem(?) I wrote tonight about my son Radar...Yes, he had brown fur and four legs, but my heart knew him only as my son.
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On July 11th, I died. Although I'm still technically living, breathing, and now writing, the old me is dead. She passed away on the back patio cement, alone. Although she was literally physically surrounded by those who loved her beyond words, no one noticed that her heart had suddenly given out. She let out weird sounds in her final death throes, but even then nobody thought it was strange; she often made funny sounds and hilarious snorts. It was only after she had been lying on her side, motionless for a period of time that will unfortunately (or mercifully?) never be precisely known, did mom and dad rush to her side... But it was too late. The chest compressions, the CPR--while thoughtfully implemented--were ultimately pointless because she was already gone.

Yes, the old me died that day. As my beautiful brindle boxer boy Radar took his last breath, Radar's mom also ceased to breathe. When his heart failed, hers was ripped from her chest. When he was cremated, her future burned with him, and when Radar's ashes were callously handed to the new "me," I felt the full physical burden of his mom's weight in that box. Radar was the light of her life. She rescued him from a life of hardship and he rescued her from herself. He was the man in her bed when her husband was deployed and the sympathetic son in her lap when life was a little too hard day that day. Now they are both gone. Forever. And the new me is left with nothing but his ashes and the task of burying an invisible identity that no longer has a place in this world.

At least this new, miserable me can rest knowing she is there with him... I bet at this moment she's mothering him by cleaning out his wrinkles, or snuggling with him when he is tired and only wants to fall asleep in her arms... Maybe he's doing his "dead bug" pose, complete with one leg bent, the other extended, and lips spilling onto the floor...and she's kissing his cute belly because really, who could resist it? It's so damn cute.
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The new me is lost without you, Budsy Brown! You were and always will be the BEST boy! I will never know how we got so lucky to get to have you. Or how you got so good. Mom loves you so much and even though I sometimes selfishly wish I could forget in order to manage this burning pain in my gut, mom and dad will never forget you. Never!!! I find myself constantly wishing you were here with me. I'm sorry for that, buddy. Please ignore me. I believe you are in heaven and to want you back here, on this broken Earth is both laughable and incredibly selfish. We will see each other again. On that day, God will restore us all and it will be good.

--Sara, Radar's mom
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mybaby1robert
Believe me I know how you feel.  I feel like a part of me died when I lost my Robert.  But the new me is a better me.  I am sorry that any of us have to go through these times of grief and deep loss.  These wonderful creatures we love so much are the best of us. God gives them to us and we only get a short time to know them but we will know them forever.  Hold on and peace will come.  It will take a good deal of time and it will never quite be the same.  You will be better person and you will know the great love that you have will never leave.  Peace to you friend.  Until we are all united with our children.
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Dalidog
Radar's mom...  I love what you wrote, it hit home.  It is so true that we died with them and now we are different people.  The person I was when my girl was here is no longer alive.  I miss the old person, but in ways it is true that we are better, they made us better people just by being here.  When they leave, we somehow see how important some things are and others arent'.  I so miss my girl and thank her every day for being my Dali and taking care of me.  Thanks for posting that beautiful tribute to Radar, as it shows the unconditional love they have for us and us for them.  Hugs to you and Radar always from me and my Dali

Dali, as much a daughter as any human...  pure love
Until we meet again

http://rainbowsbridge.com/residents/DALI003/Resident.htm

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Radars_mom
Thank you for your words, it is true that I am better for having known and loved my "Radar face". <3 it's weird how things like that seem so common sense, but you just can't hear them until they're spoken by someone who's been through it.... Someone you know isn't judging you or figuratively rolling their eyes at your "trivial" pet-induced pain.
Thank you, sincerely for taking the time to respond, mybaby1robert and Dalidog <3
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cmooradian
Sara, AKA Radar's mom,

Your words really hit the nail on the head. After my baby Roy died, I had to start seeing a therapist. The trauma I had experienced when I found my baby ignited so many other feelings, so many memories of past traumas...I felt like I was suffocating. I wanted to sleep to escape my feelings, but sleep brought nightmares and sleep terrors--something I hadn't experienced for years. At the same time, there were days where I wished I wouldn't wake up. I felt like I had lost all of the joy in my life. I had lost my best friend.

But there is hope. Death was the last beautiful thing my baby could've ever done for me. It has been a very painful growing experience, but I have finally learned the lessons Roy was trying to teach me all along. I've been working hard to change the things I don't like about my life. I've started setting clearer boundaries for myself, and sticking to them. I'm not afraid of confrontation. Losing Roy was my worst fear, and I'm conquering it. I feel stronger, more self confident. I suddenly have more compassion, more empathy for others also going through painful transitions. I felt immense guilt--think Atlas and the globe--about his death and as repentance I started volunteering at a shelter. Now, willingly and joyfully I'm helping other unwanted furbabies find their forever homes. These are things my baby wanted me to feel during this life, and I'm finally getting there.

Yes, I died there in the kitchen with my baby, Roy. But like a phoenix, I feel like I've sifted through the rubble, pushed through the embers, shook the dust off myself, and emerged a beautiful new person my baby wanted me to be all along.

"Now thou art dead, no eye shall ever see,
For shape and service, spaniel like to thee.
This shall my love do, give thy sad death one
Tear, that deserves of me a million."

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Radars_mom
Cmooradian,

Thank you for that! Seriously, it made my day. A Pheonix rising from the embers... What a beautiful personification of life after death. A lovely tribute to your Roy and an even lovelier read.
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jonancy
Radars Mom

I am so sorry for your loss, your words brougnt tears to my eyes. I know exactly how you feel, when my Scooter died, I know paert of me went with him. I am not tbe same person I was before My heart goes out to you and your husband. You are so right, we are all better because we loved them and they loved us unconditionally.

Take care,
Jonancy...Scooters Mama


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Radars_mom
Thank you for your words of support, Jonancy! ❤️
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godiva
cmooradian wrote:
Sara, AKA Radar's mom,

Your words really hit the nail on the head. After my baby Roy died, I had to start seeing a therapist. The trauma I had experienced when I found my baby ignited so many other feelings, so many memories of past traumas...I felt like I was suffocating. I wanted to sleep to escape my feelings, but sleep brought nightmares and sleep terrors--something I hadn't experienced for years. At the same time, there were days where I wished I wouldn't wake up. I felt like I had lost all of the joy in my life. I had lost my best friend.

But there is hope. Death was the last beautiful thing my baby could've ever done for me. It has been a very painful growing experience, but I have finally learned the lessons Roy was trying to teach me all along. I've been working hard to change the things I don't like about my life. I've started setting clearer boundaries for myself, and sticking to them. I'm not afraid of confrontation. Losing Roy was my worst fear, and I'm conquering it. I feel stronger, more self confident. I suddenly have more compassion, more empathy for others also going through painful transitions. I felt immense guilt--think Atlas and the globe--about his death and as repentance I started volunteering at a shelter. Now, willingly and joyfully I'm helping other unwanted furbabies find their forever homes. These are things my baby wanted me to feel during this life, and I'm finally getting there.

Yes, I died there in the kitchen with my baby, Roy. But like a phoenix, I feel like I've sifted through the rubble, pushed through the embers, shook the dust off myself, and emerged a beautiful new person my baby wanted me to be all along.


cmooradian,

Oh.My.Gosh. This sums up Exactly how I'm feeling. Out of fear and guilt and anguish comes growth and strength. Thank you so very much for putting into words what I was unable to.

Much love,
~ Becky
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